Intimidating.
That seemed to be the word playing about in Val’s mind as the pair ventured into the noble region, the rustle of manicured hedges substituting the common honks of the nightless city. Living in Atera came with a fair share of towering skyrises, but lofty homes were another thing entirely. Extending her offer the full stretch, she decided to escort the thirteen-year-old home as the hours edged into midnight.
Never did she expect to end up before a grand, modern-looking pagoda. Sure, the structure maintained the tiered crowns that were representative of the namesake, yet glass and steel replaced the characteristic wooden planks. The roof acted as a fountain, crystalline rivers overflowing past the dips and dissipating into narrow pools.
The water cast a cyan glow on the two as they strolled into the estate, and Val couldn’t shake the feeling that hundreds of gazes marked her every move. There has to be a scry of some sort in place.
Once they reached the laned entrance's end, Rowan grabbed a dragon-shaped door knocker and slammed the metal in a precise tune. Enchantments awoke, briefly displaying a pattern reminiscent of the beasts woven into the Jin Clan's clothing. The doorway slid apart, uncovering an antique antechamber as well as the home's resident.
The young man seemed a year or two older than Val, raven bangs parted to reveal almond-shaped eyelids. One hand loitered in his robe’s pocket, and the other rubbed at his forehead. “Rowan. You can’t keep ditching your bodyguards. They would’ve killed me if you hadn’t shown—hell, they might do it anyway.”
“No need to be scared, Lowe. This lady—” a stern glance from the metal mage steered his words “—I mean, Val helped me.”
Dodging the youth’s tired glare, Rowan shot Val a two-fingered salute and scampered off into the unlighted depths of the building. A loud huff of air returned her sights to the guardian, the frustration on his knitted brows transforming into an appreciating smile.
“Thanks for walking my brother home…” His speech crept into a whisper as an expression once amiable reversed into a scrutinizing frown. “Hey, I know you.”
Val narrowed her eyes, discerning genuine recognition in his face.
“Yeah, you’re the talk of the town!”
“Talk of what now?”
“Gimme a sec,” he muttered, slipping out a phone. Each tap on its screen doubled her wary interest, and she leaned forward involuntarily once he whirled the screen. “See?”
A soft gasp left her parted lips, eyes dancing between the lines of an article and the captioned picture, titled ‘The Enchanter Rising to Stardom.’ “I came in third in one competition, didn’t expect it to be such a big deal outside the enchanting circle of things.”
“Of course it is!” Something in the middle of a scoff and laugh shook his shoulders. “Need I remind you that most artificers start their training as soon as their strain is revealed?”
“Right,” Val said in turn, an obvious exception to the rule.
“The artificing sphere is like a small town,” he continued. “We know who everyone is, and the prospects of them excelling. Then you come along, displacing the class known to possess stagnant competition. Believe me when I say the sole ranking made quite the splash.”
“Great,“ she mumbled, absorbing the weight of his words. To be fair, this was exactly what she was gunning for—she entered the Rookie Competition as another head to count and exited as a person to look out for. Though the implication hinted at the possibility of her university supplementals supporting her application effectively, it pinned a bright, red target onto her back. As worrying as the realization was, something else caught her attention. “Wait, you said we?”
“Oh, I’m a Metalsmith,” he answered, placing a palm on his chest. “Lowell.”
“Valory,” she said in turn, “though I go by Val to most.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he grinned, and something about the nonchalant way he held himself put her mind at ease. “Want to come in?”
“I think I've had enough adventure for today,” Val chuckled. “Do you mind if I grab your number though?”
Leaning back on the pagoda’s metal walls, his smile broadened. “For what reason?”
“I need a solid source of materials that’s not from my dives. It’d take too much time,” Val said. “A couple of coldsteel chains wouldn’t hurt either.”
“Done deal.”
“That’s it?” Val blurted, suspecting some form of payment for the request.
“If my instincts prove me correct, I get to make a connection with an enchanter destined for the top,” he shrugged. “ I believe I can afford to spare some metals.”
By the saints. It was a lie to say she wasn't feeling some sort of pressure. But then again, it was worlds better from the dismissive consideration she’d come so accustomed to. “Alright, sure. If you say so. Where do you craft?”
He flourished an arm at the question, visibly eager to answer, and yet pausing like it would add a dramatic effect. “Runic Mead.”
“Nice, me too!”
He blinked—once, twice—and she could nearly perceive the buffering halo above his head. The image was shattered as he burst into boisterous laughter. “I should’ve known."
“You really couldn’t have,” Val answered, shivering as a crisp breeze skimmed her exposed ankles. “Haven’t stepped foot in the crafting hall since the Initiation.”
“That adds up,” he nodded. “In that case, need a hand settling in?”
“You know what?” A tiny smile blossomed on her face. “A guide would be nice.”
----------------------------------------
“Keep that I.D tag visible at all times, else any security guard has grounds to escort you out of these premises. Remember, if you heed the rules of Runic Mead–”
“–your services will be sweet, and your time a breeze. I got it. No worries.” Val plucked the thin card out of the clerk’s rigid grasp, offered a stiff smile, and cleared out as swiftly as she could without appearing to be rude.
Runic Mead hosted several facilities, including buildings varying from the commerce center frequently visited by customers, to the museum stacked with creations put on display. Unlike the overly advanced layout of the function hall, the primary building carried a rustic ambience of ancient times.
Scented candles ornamented the glazed timber, and coats of legendary crafters embellished the stone pillars. Grass pooled at the columns’ feet, bordered by the cobblestone pathways wounding through the indoor lobby.
“Get it? Get it?” Lowell fell into step beside her. “Because mead is–”
“–both a drink and a meadow. Yes, I understand Standard quite well, Lowell. Thanks.”
Though Val’s sneakers made light work of the twisting lanes, Lowell’s pout put an end to her trailblazing tempo. “Look, that’s like the 5th time I’ve heard the jingle.”
“They’re just happy to see a new face here. After all, there are barely 500 artificers in the whole crafting hall.”
Val exhaled and rubbed at her eyes. “My prickly energy must be a blast to be around. Sorry. Tired.”
Lowell nudged her shoulder. “That 400-paged book kicked your ass last night, eh?”
A hint of a smile appeared on her lips. “How’d you know?”
“We’re all artificers first, metalsmiths or whatever second. If one thing’s the same between all classes, it’s that we all could do with more sleep.”
“You can say that again.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Lowell shot her a grin identical to his little brother’s, his pace quickening twofold. “This place isn’t going to explore itself, you know!”
“Hey!” Val yelled after him. “Slow down, will you?”
----------------------------------------
First Halo of Ciazel,
Atera,
Thales Academy
Likely on her merry way to a class of hers, an Auricean girl frantically slapped her friend’s shoulder. “Laten, Laten! Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“What is it, Riley?” There was a pause as he trailed his friend’s finger. “Holy shit, she’s—!”
On the next step, Rhodes relocated to the halls above, a faint chuckle the sole trace left behind. She perceived the duo through the floorings, lost in a daze as they stared at each another, unsure if they saw correctly.
Regularly, Rhodes wouldn’t mind nodding to the mages-in-training, but the receptionist warned her to keep disturbances to a minimum. After the kind hearted lady managed to sneak her into the dean’s extensive waiting list, it was the least Rhodes could do. As planned, her destination remained a few paces away, and she closed the distance to ring the doorbell.
“My assistant informed me of a guest.” A low-pitched voice seeped past the frosted glass, practiced calm evident in the tone. “You may come in.”
Rhodes disguised the discomfort churning her stomach and shoved open the frosted-glass door. A dark-skinned woman nearing her fifties sipped at a steaming cup, clicking away on the desktop. Wrapped into a hefty bun above her head, the dean's coily hair complimented her ebony blazer, a stylistic choice the captain could appreciate. Almost reluctantly, she tore her gaze from her device to survey the visitor, and her striking, blue eyes lit up in surprise.
Rhodes forced herself to stand straighter, ironing her image into one befitting of a dual-bound Magus. “Old hag.”
“Insolent brat.”
They studied themselves in silence, accented by the dull clicks of the grandfather clock. Everything from the top of her perfect hair-do to the high flat-heeled sandals allowed Rhodes a tiny sense of relief. I see she’s doing well.
Reclining in her desk chair, the dean cracked first with a sigh. “Care to tell me why I’ve been given the privilege of welcoming you into my humble abode?”
Rhodes tried and failed to conceal a snort. Humble? The marble tiles must’ve been mopped three times a day, clean enough to part-time as a mirror. The dean’s granite desk was home to a high-quality monitor and a cupboard of theory-based textbooks underneath. IBR slides faded in and out on the latest-edition television, finishing the modern look. At least Rhodes spotted a few wooden cabinets in the room to back up the dean’s claim.
Rhodes dropped off the bundled files she retrieved out of her spatial pocket. “I’m here to do you a favour.” She thumbed the stack of papers. “Think twice about declining her when that board of yours meets up.”
Humming a bored tune, the woman picked up the documents and flipped through at pace far underneath the brain capacity of a Magister. Suppose that’s as close as a yes I’m going to get.
Well-acquainted with the dean, Rhodes understood the burdens she often faced, threats, complaints, and double-edged offers lingering behind every corner. With her job complete, Rhodes started for the entrance, the footfalls of her military boots accompanying the grandfather clock
“First Azion, and now my estranged daughter. What’s so special about you, Efron… what’s so special?”
Rhodes stopped dead in her tracks and swiveled on her heels. “What did you say?”
The dean—her mother—frowned, her glossy lips glowing as the lights above hit them at a different angle. “I suppose your rank is a lie if you couldn’t hear me from that measly distance.”
The captain pinched the bridge of her nose. “Humour me, for once.”
“Which section wasn’t clear, the estranged part?”
“No,” she near-growled, not bothering to hide behind a polite tone. “I’m wondering why Azion ‘Azurefanged’ Thorne mentioned Valory to you.”
“That is far from a mystery. She’s a member of his guild, not to mention an old friend of mine.” Her mother folded a hand over the other. “Rather, you are the conundrum. I haven’t seen you for the better part of a decade, yet here you are. For one, lone girl. How come?”
She waved a hand. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Then consider this conversation finished. Go bother another dean for this ‘Valory Efron.’”
Heedless of Rhodes’ livid stare, the dean took a long, provoking swig from her mug and returned her thoughts to her desktop. The dismissal rang clear, and if it had been any other subject, Rhodes would’ve vacated the office at once.
Yet, soldiers carried out their duties, no matter how annoying or difficult the order might become. Rhodes intended on seeing her self-assigned mission through. In the end, a talented mage’s life—a young girl’s life—was at risk. Swallowing her pride, she marched forward and grabbed a seat.
“Mom—” the woman stiffened “—forget about the past eight years. Valory is a smart, talented, hardworking lady. Plus, she wields elements otherwise unseen, and it’d be a tragedy for you not to give her a chance.”
Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Elements—plural? It states she wields metal and metal alone.”
Rhodes mentally cursed her loose tongue. “She’s bound to a Pseudo-Elemental Gate. Down the line, she’ll likely be able to dabble in lead, gold, and more metals than anyone can count on both their hands and toes. That’s beside the point.”
“No, that is the point. In the elemental world, we still qualify her as mono-bound, for a lack of better terms. I know that you enrolled in that second-rate military school, however, I’m sure they taught you the correct titles,” she countered, void of any doubts. “Stop playing with me, girl. Either you tell me the truth or leave.”
Though Rhodes kept her face expressionless, panic troubled her insides. What’s wrong with me? Four months ago, she stood up to the highest parts of Ciazel—Archons, the heads of factions, Special Intelligence. Yet, the mere presence of her mother cut through her nerves of steel like a fireball through snow.
Worse, she revealed too many pieces in this brief conversation alone. Although holes punctured the narrative, it was far from a puzzle the dean couldn’t solve. Only one card could fix the circumstance, to push the derailing discussion back on track.
The truth.
“I banished her elements right as she manifested. I feared she’d draw attention too quickly.”
“According to what?” The dean patted Valory’s files. “This? From what I can tell, she needs those elements, should she hope to be chosen for prestigious enrollment of any kind.”
“Valory is a borderline gold,” Rhodes announced, and she relished the look of absolute surprise on her mother’s face. She’ll faint once she discovers her actual PAST.
The woman’s bun shifted ever-so-slightly as she shook her head. “Impossible. I would’ve known the moment her strain was determined.”
“As you’ll soon learn, Valory’s not a normal case,” she said. “Apparently it was left blank on her file until the Tripartite Trials.”
Flying furiously through the papers, lines marred the dean’s brow as she paused at the final sheet. “It’s true,” she admitted. “Saints, what a disgusting case of irresponsibility.”
“Finally, something we agree on.” Rhodes’ blank expression fell into a smirk. “Is this reason enough to be reviewed by Thales?”
The woman shot her an exasperated glare. “I reckon this will get her past the first screening, in the least.”
“Thanks," Rhodes bobbed her head, leaning into the office chair's cushions.
"This isn't a daycare," her mother remarked.
The captain paid no mind to the comment, taken ahold by awe-filled memories of the past. Valory’s awakening sent chills down her spine, the shimmering lights of celestial-like beings a window to future things. Then, there was the slightest touch on Rhodes' State of Beings—otherwise known as the layers of existence, often separated by mind, body, spirit and soul. Two separate elements, the first alluding to a terrifying offensive power, and the second an auxiliary force able to penetrate the deepest levels of a person.
With the occurrence currently at the forefront of her thoughts, Rhodes tilted her head as she remembered the separate banish rune on Valory’s cheek. The sight picked at her brain till this day, as there was no logical reason for its appearance. Why banish someone's element prior to manifestation?
Failing to discover the answer regardless of how many times she wracked her brain, she decided to put words to her introspection. “Is it possible to banish what isn’t there?”
Her mother’s icy irises flitted in her direction. “Did the spell fail?”
“It worked alright, I’m merely curious.”
“No.” The clacking of a keyboard in use resumed. “If there’s nothing to bind, the aether loses form.”
Rhodes’ eyebrows stitched together in confusion.
“Something the matter?”
“Well it’s…” Rhodes paused, teetering on the line between tempting answers and shrinking mistrust. The dean didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, the rapid ticks of her mouse brewing up a storm. “Well, there was another banish rune on Valory, though it looked to be in a terrible state. I figured it was a bunch of kids playing around, or an unfortunate experiment—”
The grandfather clock’s pendulum ceased to swing, and the dean’s working fingers halted. The disappearance of white noise unsettled Rhodes, and she picked up a pen from her mother’s desk to counter it. “What’s wrong?”
“It appears to me that someone’s hiding Valory, prior to your knowledge of her powers.”
Rhodes sat straight. “I’m not following.”
“Think, Fiona, think.”
Wincing at the dreaded, overused statement, she dissected the facts obtained recently and beforehand. Provided banish runes dissipate without a target to shackle, the decrepit spell she witnessed must have locked up, at the minimum, one of Valory’s elements. That doesn’t make sense. Rhodes and Master Winsford witnessed Valory manifesting her elements on Janos 10th. As far as she was concerned, that occurrence marked the first awakening of the young Striker, unless…
A sharp exhale escaped Rhodes. “Valory induced her own manifestation long before the Tripartite Trial.”
“Precisely.” The dean’s lips formed a straight line. “I’m led to believe it’s connected to her mishandled PAST.”
“Who, though?”
“We have an obvious first suspect, now don’t we?”
Rhodes replayed the conversation, skipping the information passed and analyzing the name to start it all. “It seems Guildmaster Thorne knows something about Valory that we do not.”